


Chance Encounter

by MentalAnarchy



Category: Constantine (Comic), Constantine (TV), Constantine: The Hellblazer (Comics), Hellblazer & Related Fandoms, Torchwood
Genre: Canon Bisexual Character, Crossover, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-23
Updated: 2016-05-23
Packaged: 2018-06-10 06:58:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6944434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MentalAnarchy/pseuds/MentalAnarchy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just a slice out of a scene in which the man in the greatcoat meets the man in the trench coat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chance Encounter

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Случайная встреча](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11552175) by [fandomDCCW](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fandomDCCW/pseuds/fandomDCCW)



John Constantine had met all sorts of beings over the years, from the First of the Fallen to minor fae, but he’d never seen anything like what was grinning at him now.

“Hi!” It stuck out a hand. “Captain Jack Harkness.”

It wore a vintage RAF greatcoat. It had an American accent. It managed the appearance of one of the best-looking men Constantine had ever seen.

But it couldn't be human. Not with all that energy inside it.

Instead of taking the offered hand, he studied the creature.

It was neither divine nor demonic, he was sure of that much. The power that permeated it thrummed -- bottled up, under pressure, and trapped. It felt alive in a way that seemed impossible… somehow timeless. The sheer _wrongness_ of it made Constantine’s skin tingle. He couldn’t say the sensation was entirely unpleasant.

“What the hell are you?”

* * *

The man in the rumpled trench coat’s eyes widened -- just for an instant -- at Jack’s approach. He scowled as Jack introduced himself, then just sucked in smoke from his cigarette and stared for a couple of seconds.

“What the hell are you?”

Jack covered his unease with another grin. A flirtatious one this time. “The fulfillment of your every fantasy.”

He expected the remark to make the man squirm. The grim, gritty types were usually insecure about their masculinity -- as if sexuality had anything to do with that. But this one didn't even blink.

Instead, he scoffed, then he tapped a new cigarette from the pack in his coat pocket and lit it from the end of the one he’d just about finished. “Mate,” he said, “I ain't got that much imagination.”


End file.
